Miss Invisible
by darlingdancer124
Summary: She didn't even have to be liked. Just not being hated would be enough. Was that really too much to ask?


**A/N: Helloooo Gleeks! I'm back in the fanfiction universe, after a year-long absence! So, a little background on the story. I'm an avid dancer, and while looking around online for songs to choreograph a lyrical dance to, I stumbled upon "Miss Invisible" by Marie Digby. It's truly an amazing song, you should definitely listen :)**** Anyway, the person it makes me think of most is Rachel, so lo and behold this story came to be while I supposed to be studying for midterms. It's loosely based on the song, and I may continue and turn it into a multi-chapter fic if I get enough reviews. I know it's really short, and it's a prequel to the show. Anyway, read, enjoy, and please review! Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Miss Invisible, or anything else I may mention.**

"Rae, you need to get out of the car. I need to get to work."

Fourteen year old Rachel Barbra Berry stared at her father with the petulance of a full-grown woman. "Daddy, I simply don't understand why this schooling is required. I clearly have twice the maturity and intelligence of my peers, and it's not like I'll ever need math or science anyway. Papa can just teach me English at home and I'll be fine," she said, turning her head to stare apprehensively out the window of their Acura.

"What you just said proves that you aren't any more mature than any other fourteen-year-old. Go," Hiram stated, giving his daughter a slight nudge.

Rachel sighed dramatically and slid from the car, slamming the door behind her before walking anxiously to the front door of William McKinley High School. She hadn't really been protesting about her schooling due to her intelligence, although her grades were exceptional. She simply didn't want to spend another day alone, or worse, being teased. But her dads didn't need to know that. Nor did they need to know that she brought a spare outfit to school every day, anticipating a slushy attack.

Hiram and Leroy Berry knew that their daughter wasn't the most popular girl in her freshman class-that was Quinn Fabray-but they assumed she had _some_ friends. It wasn't like she was insanely shy (actually, she was quite possibly the loudest person in Lima) or a horrible person. She was fairly pretty, intelligent, and _extremely _talented. Her ambition had taken her many places, but what Rachel's fathers didn't know was that many of the places were less than desirable. Like the dumpster in the parking lot of McKinley.

Although Rachel's fathers appreciated her abilities, the McKinley student body didn't. Her talents made her an outcast, and her occasionally abrasive personality just helped her to alienate herself more. In her two weeks of high school, the only friend Rachel had made was the germaphobic guidance counselor.

Which was why Rachel now sat alone in the front row of first period Spanish I, trying to ignore mocking laughter coming from the last row. Somehow, she had ended up in class with not just Quinn, but her entourage as well.

The final bell rang, and Rachel looked up at Mr. Schuester, who smiled kindly at her.

"Alright guys, let's get this show on the road," he said from the board, effectively silencing Quinn and Santana's laughter. "Who can come write a sentence on the board using an adjective you learned on the homework last night? How about you, Quinn? Underline the adjective so we know what you picked."

The pretty blond whispered something to Santana, then flounced up to the front of the room with a smirk. Picking up a blue marker, she began to write:

_Ella es un perdedor __feo__._

Making sure Mr. Schue's back was still turned, checking homework, Quinn quickly drew a large arrow pointing at a mortified Rachel. Laughter burbled through the room. Mr. Schue turned before Quinn could erase the evidence.

Rage at the bratty cheerleader surged through him, but he silently counted to ten before acknowledging the girl's behavior.

"Quinn, erase that and take your seat. I expect to see you here every afternoon for the rest of the week for detention. Does anyone _else _have an answer they'd like to share?" He looked around. "Okay, Dave, go ahead," he said, nodding at the football player. "Keep it appropriate." Mr. Schue strode over to his desk briefly, writing something on a blue sheet of paper before striding back to Rachel's desk. "Here, Rach," he said, sliding the girl the paper. A bathroom pass.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Rachel managed to utter despite the lump in her throat. She strode to the door of the classroom with as much dignity as possible, and managed to make it to the girls' bathroom before allowing the tears to fall. The small brunette slid against the wall to a crouch on the floor, sobbing. What had she ever done to Quinn to make her hate her so much? What had she done to any of them? Glancing up, Rachel saw through her tears that the bathroom vandal had struck again. Yet another pornographic picture, captioned with her name, decorated the bathroom wall, a member of a disgusting collection. Rachel had a pretty good idea of who had drawn the pictures, but it wasn't like she could prove it. It wasn't worth going to Figgins over, anyway. The man was about as useful as waiting for rain in a drought. Groaning, the girl buried her head in her arms and stayed like that until the bell rang.

Several hours later, the bell for period 5 to end rang and Rachel left her English class reluctantly. She was feeling slightly better than she had this morning…there had been no more incidents with Quinn or Santana…but she was in no hurry to get to lunch. Still, she could only stall for so long. Grudgingly, the girl headed to the cafeteria. Just as she mustered up the courage to go in, however, she collided with a brick wall…or a body.

"Oh crap! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there!" cried her assaulter. Looking up at him, Rachel's annoyance disintegrated. He was tall, towering over her 5'2'' frame, with brown eyes and a goofy smile.

"It's fine," she managed to utter.

"Really? 'Cause I hit you kind of hard."

"No, really, I'm okay," she told him. "Um, I'm Rachel."

He smiled. "Hey. I'm Finn."

"Finn!" A shrill voice interrupted their little exchange. _Shit,_ Rachel thought,_ Of course. This is Finn __**Hudson**_, _Quinn's puppy dog of a boyfriend._

Finn smiled apologetically. "Sorry, the girlfriend awaits. See you around, Rachel."

"See you," she said quietly to his retreating figure. The tiny brunette continued to the doors of the cafeteria, but hesitated before entering. There had to be somewhere else she could eat.

Rachel looked around, her eyes landing on the door down the hall that led out to the football field. She had no idea what the rule for leaving the building was-she was a freshman after all, the lowest of the low-and she wasn't going to stick around to find out. Hoisting her bag higher up on her shoulder, she quickly pushed open the door and headed out onto the football field and scanned her surroundings. Where to go?

Her eyes landed on the old, metal bleachers. Looking around one last time, and deeming Coach Sylvester too preoccupied with her Cheerios to care what she was doing, Rachel scurried over to them. _**On **__them is too risky, _she thought. _Maybe there's space under them._

There was indeed space under them, and this is where Rachel spent her lunch hour daily. No one saw her, anyone who walked by was too busy with their own life to notice the tiny freshman under the bleachers. It wasn't that Rachel wasn't lonely, she definitely was, but she knew deep down that calling any attention to herself, any at all, would be likely to end badly. So she settled into her new persona, at school anyway: the persona of Miss Invisible.

**A/N: So, thoughts? Continue or no? Requests? Review and let me know!**


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